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About Me

is an unapologetic, bleeding-heart liberal who writes about everything from politics to private parts. A TV-writer in a former life, her credits include "Big Spender" for Animal Planet,and "A Child Too Many," "Cradle of Conspiracy" & "Deceived By Trust," for Lifetime

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Another year beats a path to the history books and,
frankly, I’m sorry to see it go.Unlike
so many years before it, 2014 and I got along just fine.Honestly, I couldn’t have asked for more out
of a year:Good health, good friends and
a home where I’ve never been happier.Best of all I finally found the perfect handbag and the perfect bra.Score
2014!

Now is the time we all start making those resolutions
few of us will keep.I’m making it easy
on myself.I’m resolving to do little that’s
different from last year.Why mess with success?

I am going to get my ass out of the chair and
moving a bit more.To that end, I’m
joining a hip-hop class starting in January that meets once a week.I like today’s music.I like to dance.I don’t like going to a gym.

Two thousand-fifteen is an impressive number for a
year.It never occurred to me as a child
that I would live to see such a date.Although, had it occurred, I’m certain I would have expected a world
more akin to that of “The Jetsons”and
less “Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

I remember what a big deal it was when the clock
struck midnight in 1960, the first year I was old enough to appreciate the power of a zero. I got to stay up late and Mom made hot chocolate served in paper-thin China
cups with gold-leaf trim.On New Year’s
Eve 1970, I was at a Grateful Dead concert at the Fillmore loaded on weed.What a difference a decade makes.

Now, several decades later, I gather with friends
in front of the TV watching Kathy Griffin rip on Anderson Cooper until 9:00
p.m. (PST), and then off to bed because when the ball drops at midnight in New
York that’s good enough for me.

However you ring in the New Year, here’s hoping
that 2015 is everything you want it to be.

Sunday, December 14, 2014

An excerpt from "Suitable for Giving: A Collection of Wit with a Side of Wry."

I’ve been on the receiving end of
some pretty amazing gifts in my life.Things I really wanted, but had no expectation of actually getting.Surprises that blew my circuits with the
thought, care andlove that I knew went into picking them out for me.

On the giving end, the fun of
seeing a friend’s face light up with genuine excitement at a perfect gift
chosen especially for them brings a pleasure and satisfaction that’s hard to
match, and I don’t think I’m alone in feeling that way.

So why is it that every
gift-giving occasion always produces at least a couple of those “What the hell
were they thinking?” gifts that look like the giver just threw a “Hail Mary”
and hoped for the best?

Let me just say I don’t need any
more – or any, for that matter -- tee-shirts with sayings on them.“Does 'anal retentive' have a hyphen?”Thanks for pointing out that I’m a control
freak and, by all means, let’s share it with the world.

Same with that mood ring.I know what mood I’m in, thank you, and while we’re at it, I haven’t been in the mood for a lava lamp since 1968
either. While you may have had the best
of intentions, I already have closet shelves devoted to ceramic cats, more soap
than anyone could use in a lifetime, candles for everyone should there be a
nationwide power outage, and a ceramic photo frame in the shape of a cow.Blessedly, only one of those.

While it should go without
saying, unless we’re closely related, please don’t give me underwear.As for socks with cartoon characters on
them?Really?The dementia is that obvious, is it? I don’t need a coffee mug with a
photo of my dog on it.I know what my
dog looks like.I’m already the only one
in the office with no family photos on her desk.Why don’t you just get me a mug that says
“pathetic” and be done with it?

Homemade gifts are especially
iffy.Jellies, cookies, banana
bread?Bring it on.A hand-knit beret made from your dog’s fur
that you collected from the floor after grooming, wove into yarn yourself and
then knit just for me?Not so much.

When I was 15 my mother put a
carton of cigarettes in my Christmas stocking.“Spring” was my death stick of choice back then.Of course, this was before we all knew about
the dangers of smoking, which makes me feel a bit better because, although I
was a pretty rotten kid, I’d like to believe that my mother wasn’t trying to
off me.

All of which leads me to the
obvious:What wrong with cash?Even the wealthiest among us can appreciate
that a twenty will buy a few beers.The
wealthy love cash.Why do you think they
have so much of it?And if it’s good
enough for them, it’s certainly good enough for the rest of us.While cash may not say, “I saw this and
immediately thought of you,” I think I’ve clearly established how very awry that
path can go.

When in doubt as to what I might
want, just ask.I’ll tell you.I’m not shy about it in the least.I’ll even send you links to the websites.Seriously, I’m here to help.

Of course, if you’re still
determined to go it on your own, you can pretty much never go wrong with a good
book.;)

You know how those greedy bastards at Amazon have increased their qualification for "free shipping" to $35? Well, Barnes & Noble is still only$25. Buy Suitable for Giving at B & N and get more bang for your buck.

Thursday, December 4, 2014

It’s Christmas in California and, despite how
superior we feel to those of you digging out from under four feet of snow while
we’re still working on our tan, we have to admit to a little bit Christmas
envy.

Images of people bundled in parkas, donned with faux
fur-trimmed hats and thick, warm gloves carrying home the family tree amidst flurries of falling snow taunt us.Even your department store Santas are jollier
than ours who must labor under layers of padding and heavy wool suits, in eighty-degree weather, listening to kids asking for Beach Bunny Barbie.

This week we had some rain and wind. The
temperature plunged to a punishing fifty degrees, finally awakening
my Christmas spirit.While there is no
room in my tiny abode for the massive trees of Christmas pasts, I’ve made do once
again with my new tradition – The Christmas Pole.I do miss the fresh pine scent of a real tree, but I love that my Ace Hardware garland came pre-lit, and remind myself that
that’s why God created Glade.

The sun is out today and my tomato plants are
still flourishing, but tonight when my sky is as dark as yours, I’ll be sipping
hot eggnog and dreaming of a white Christmas.

Monday, November 24, 2014

It’s hard for me to believe now that there was a
time – long, long ago and far, far away – in the land known as “my youth,” when
I was not a morning person. I recall
lying in bed looking at the clock, which might have read “10:15 a.m.,” and
thinking, “Great.It’s not even eleven yet.I can go back to sleep.”Which meant my “useful” day would start at
about 1:00 and, during the winter months that would give me only about four
hours of sunlight.No wonder I was so
cranky back then.I was seriously
Vitamin D deficient.

The fact that I rarely got in before 2:00 a.m. in those days and that I currently live in a community that rolls up the proverbial
sidewalks at eight should probably be mentioned.The most raucous club in town closes at
ten.People here have cows and horses to
feed in the morning.

I love mornings, and if I don’t have to come down
off my quiet, little hilltop, all the better.The idea that a day is new and as yet unsullied appeals to me.Morning is a frame of mind.As long as I don’t take off my robe – even if
it’s 3:00 in the afternoon – it’s still technically morning. Conversely, if I have someplace I need to be
at 9:00 a.m., even if I’m home by 10:00, morning is lost.

I realize that I’m getting older.I can see the “Exit” sign from here, so these
days I’m happy just to wake up and find that I’m still alive. “Score!Got another one!”One hears about people unexpectedly dying in
their sleep all the time and, while it sounds peaceful, it would seriously piss
me off.Let me have one more
morning.

Afternoons wear on me.I’m tired by then and completely understand
the Latin tradition of napping the afternoon away.Have you noticed that people will say that
they’re a “morning” person or a “night” person, but no ever one says, “Hey, me?Yeah.I’m an afternoon person.”With
apologies to the British and their penchant for afternoon tea, I’m of the
belief that those hours are just there to fill the space between morning coffee
and evening wine.

Thanksgiving would be the exception, when the
feasting in my world starts at around 3:00.Even I would not want to wolf down turkey and
sweet potatoes for breakfast and, after 6:00, such overindulgence will stay with
me for the entire night, causing me to wake up feeling like crap and ruin the next morning.So yeah, for one
day a year, I’m an afternoon person.

Whatever time of day it is that you gather with loved ones, I
wish you all a very Happy Thanksgiving.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Day 19 of Nancy Stohlman's "30 Days, 30 Stories" flash fiction writing challenge and the prompt is "my father."My father waits at the curb, leaning against his ’56 Hudson, a Lucky Strike burning down to his calloused fingertips.

New black patent Mary Janes pinch my feet as I rush from the window to the front door, down the three steps from the porch and out to the sidewalk. He tosses his cigarette to the ground and picks me up, his face like sandpaper against my own.

“Well, aren’t you Miss Fancy Shmancy” he says.

I smell the whiskey on his breath, though it is barely noon, and I know we are not going to the promised zoo.

Friday, November 7, 2014

Pinched in a small, white box, wrapped in a sock,
buried deep in her underwear drawer, the last gift her mother would give her
lies in wait for those occasions when it is brought out from the darkness and slipped
onto the daughter’s finger.

Cast with diamonds from the mother’s wedding
ring out of a marriage born of duty, its memories best left in the past, and a single
blue sapphire added at its center for her own birth, the ring bears decades of
love and sacrifice, blessing and burden.

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Another election is behind us. Enjoy the relative
peace for about another six months until the 2016 campaigns kick in.

Yes, I voted. I’m of the opinion that if you don’t
vote you can’t bitch about the results and God knows how I love to bitch.

Does it really matter who wins the Senate when the
choice is so pathetic?Republicans are
evil, Democrats are spineless, and they’re all blowing Wall Street.

Republican supporters can gloat today, but they
shouldn’t take the election results to mean that the majority of the country’s
populace supports their anti-middle class, anti-minority, anti-woman agenda. The
GOP won because the majority of our citizens either didn’t care about voting or
were disenfranchised by new Republican-backed voting laws that made it
impossible for them to do so. Not
surprisingly, most of the disenfranchised were people of color. The good news
is our brown brothers and sisters will soon outnumber you old, white bastards.

Then we have the people who consistently vote
against their own best interests and wonder why their lives are shit:Those who voted for Republican governors who
have fought to prevent them from access to Medicaid. Pissing blood? Good luck with that.Those who voted for Walker in Wisconsin,
despite his blatant assault on the middle-class, because why should teachers,
fire and police have decent pensions after they’ve spent their lives serving an
ungrateful public?And what’s with those
who voted for McConnell in Kentucky?Has
there ever been a bigger turd in the punch bowl?

For those who believe this was a win for the “real
patriots,” think again. The big winners were the international corporate
interests that have no allegiance to flag or country, only to shareholders. You
might as well pledge your allegiance to G.E’s corporate logo.

But now the fun begins. Remember all the whining
by Democrats over Republican filibusters and obstructionism?“Tit for Tat,” baby.Say what you will about the Nixon years, but
we had a Congress that actually worked together.We’ll never see that again.Not in my lifetime anyway.

For those of you who remember my older blog posts
where I was so passionately political, that torchlight has gone out.I’m just happy to live in California where
sanity, for the most part, prevailed.